The Small Ones
by Zeragii
Summary: A series of short stories about the Gauls' childhoods.
1. Acting One's Age

**Hello! I'm Zeragii ;)**

 **After nearly finishing my story _An Inner Light,_ I went back through some of the reviews and discussions I had had with my readers during that time. And I came across a few requests that I had very nearly forgotten. There was more than one person who said that they were slightly surprised or disappointed that I had skipped over the Gauls' childhood. In that story, it had been necessary, in order to keep the story going. But now, for my readers, I would like to amend that hole in the lives of our favorite villagers. :) Each chapter will be a separate adventure, focusing on various characters. The genre will differ from one chapter to the next. And this will take place in the same timeline/universe as **_**An Inner Light**. **I don't think I'll have a particular posting schedule; I'll just post whenever I have one.**_ **Thank you!**

 **I do not own anything in the Asterix universe. I do not write for profit, but only for my own enjoyment and the enjoyment (I hope) of others.**

 ** _This first story takes place only about ten months after Asterix and Obelix's birth (so sometime in June). Vitalstatistix is probably about 6 years old. Most of the others are 5 or 6 o_ _r_ _younger_ _._**

* * *

There is a time in every child's life, when they get a taste of adulthood. Often it is an unpleasant taste; bitter and thick, making the child want to spit the experience out and never try it again. But then there are those who, if they keep their heads and truly try, realize that growing up isn't so bad. Some never want to get older, and many do want to; but it all comes down to being what you truly are. Acting your age...

Vitalstatistix rolled over in bed with a groan, throwing the sheets over his head to try and block out the blinding rays of sunshine that streamed through his open window. But that proved to be even more uncomfortable than the bright, invading light. The sheets were hot and smothering, especially in the heat of a warm, spring morning, and he quickly found he couldn't breath. Finally realizing that his slumber was now completely and utterly disturbed, Vitalstatistix kicked the blankets off of himself, his temper subsiding as a cooler breeze drifted in and blew against his overheated body.

Sitting up, the boy glanced over at the other side of the room, where shadows protected a second bed from the glare of the rising sun. Figures Doublehelix would choose the best corner, where the shade of their hut's overhanging roof kept the cool shade in and the hot sunlight out. No matter. When winter came, he would get the warm light, and Doublehelix would not. Vitalstatistix couldn't wait. For now, though, it was uncommonly hot for June.

Carefully, not wanting to wake his older brother, the young Gaul slipped off the bed and landed quietly with his small feet on the hard, wooden floor. The planks were well worn, from generations of use, but the few splinters that still managed to poke up then and again never bothered Vitalstatistix. His feet, which once the warm weather hit were always bare, were a little tender from an entire season of wearing soft, sack-like shoes, both in the village and, on occasion, in the forest. But, even so, he could walk barefooted right then without wincing; a fact which he took great pride in.

He had worn his light and dark blue striped pants to bed, as he always did; the only thing he needed to be fully dressed being his green tunic. Finding it draped over the bottom post of his bed, where it had been tossed the night before, Vitalstatistix quickly slipped it over his head, pulling it down snugly over his slightly protruding stomach before strapping on his belt. Feeling sufficiently covered, the boy next armed himself for the day's adventures. Also resting on his bedpost lay a metal strainer; his helmet, which he purposefully placed on his head. His red hair, frizzed and untidy, stuck out through the holes, making him look uncommonly like a frightened, red-quilled hedgehog. Then, reaching beneath his bed, where it had fallen, Vitalstatistix pulled out his small, wooden toy sword. Slipping it beneath his belt, the little boy felt ready to face the world. Turning, and being very mindful of creaky boards, the child carefully made his way to the ladder that led to the ground floor of his parent's hut.

Despite the reluctance with which he had awoken, Vitalstatistix was now very excited and anxious to go out and about. It was spring, and school was out early this particular year. No work to do; just play. Play until there was nothing more to worry about than more play. The life of a child revolved around such a time. When the trailing yoke of education was dropped; forgotten in a season of freedom. Vitalstatistix had promised to meet some of the others over by the creek, where they planned to play most of the morning. As long as Doublehelix didn't show up. Being a good four years older than him, as well as the future village Chief, Vitalstatistix's brother could sometimes be a little bossy. Doublehelix always said that it was his duty to protect the younger children; which, of course, only gave him license to tell them what to do. But Vitalstatistix didn't like being under someone else's rules, especially when he felt he didn't need them. Hopefully Doublehelix would go fishing with the older boys, and would leave the younger children be.

Clinging to the rungs of the ladder, Vitalstatistix descended as quickly as possible. Feet finally on the well-packed, earthen floor, the boy made a dash through the empty hut and out through the open door...only to run smack into something large, and covered in a great deal of fabric. Stumbling back, Vitalstatistix looked up in confusion, to see no one else but his mother; who was looking quite annoyed with him. She was a very large woman, with a mouth that some men swore could swallow an entire boar in three bites. Though she rarely used it for eating; she used it for nagging and scolding anyone she felt deserved it. Which, evidently, seemed to be the category her son fit into at the moment.

"Vitalstatistix, what have I told you about running about?!" Her loud voice seemed to shout for all to hear. "As the son of the Chieftain, you should be far more reserved! Now, come here and say good morning to Vanilla and Sarsaparilla!"

The boy leaned sideways to glance around his mother's girth to find that they did indeed have company. "Good morning," he quipped carefully, afraid that his mother might make him stay for breakfast. That was something he could find elsewhere. Somewhere quieter. He tried to rush off again, but his mother caught his arm, stopping him.

"Come see their new babies!" It was a command, not a suggestion.

Looking thoroughly beaten, Vitalstatistix came around and looked up at the two woman, Sarsaparilla and Vanilla. In their arms they each held a small, gurgling child; only about ten months old. It wasn't like Vitalstatistix hadn't seen them before, what with all the excitement there had been about them. Apparently, they had been born at the same time; same second. Though that was pretty neat, as far as Vitalstatistix could see, they were just a couple of babies. Little, clingy, noisy babies. But, for the sake of saving his hide, Vitalstatistix tried to look interested. One of the babies, the one belonging to Vanilla, was a plump, little fellow; with a bit of bright red hair fuzzing all around his head. He was sucking his thumb with a passion, eyes closed and making happy sucking noises that sounded as though he were enjoying a feast of wild boar.

The other baby, who was far smaller and thinner, had a cluster of bright, yellow hair growing quite thickly. His eyes, however, were open; seeming to take in as much of the world as they could. They wandered from one wonder to the next, finally coming to rest on Vitalstatistix. With a squeal of happiness, the infant held out his arms toward the older boy, making Vitalstatistix smile.

Sarsaparilla laughed at her son's enthusiasm. "Well, Asterix certainly likes _you_. Here, would you like to hold him?"

"Oh," the boy answered hesitantly, "Well, I-" But before he could finish, he found himself with an armful of cheerful, giggling baby. Unsure of what to do with it, Vitalstatistix held Asterix out at arms length, afraid that the infant might start crying, or grabbing his hair. But Asterix seemed perfectly content, hanging there, brown eyes staring into his own with an almost startling intensity.

"See!" the older boy's mother declared loudly, as she seemed to always yell every word. "He's fine. Vitalstatistix can watch them for just a few moments, Sarsaparilla! We can run to the town center and buy breakfast!"

Vitalstatistix mentally groaned. How was he going to get away now? He was only six years old after all; did they really expect him to watch _two_ babies? Alone? Without help? His questions were answered as his mother bellowed at the top of her lungs.

"Doublehelix! Get down here and help!"

There was an audible thump from the loft window, like someone falling out of bed, before more thumping, this time of feet racing toward the ladder, was heard. A moment later, a very groggy and grumpy-looking Doublehelix stood in the doorway, tucking his tunic into his pants hurriedly. His eyes still held that sleepy look, and it was a wonder he hadn't broken his neck on the way down.

"Oh no, that's not necessa-" Sarsaparilla began, but Vitalstatistix's mother cut her off.

"Nonsense! The boys will be happy to watch them!" She carefully took hold of Vanilla's baby and handed him over to her eldest son. "Watch them until we get back!"

Vitalstatistix suddenly realized his morning was all at once very disrupted. "But, Mother-"

"No buts! You're old enough now to hold a little responsibility, young man; act your age! We'll be back shortly; then we'll all have breakfast!" With that, she turned and left with the other two, more reluctant women; already chatting away, gossip a very common subject. Behind them, Doublehelix and Vitalstitistix stood, still processing their task; a gurgling baby in both their arms.

Doublehelix blinked, then looked down at the chubby youngster in his arms. The infant blinked at him, still sucking insistently on his thumb. Doublehelix seemed to consider the babe a moment, but then, without a second thought, handed the child to Vitalstatistix. Turning, hands in his pockets, the older brother started to walk away.

"Hey!" his brother cried, trying to handle the two infants, sinking to the ground when he could no longer hold them. "Where are you going?!"

"Off to find Soporifix. He and I are going into the forest today."

"But...but what about the babies?!"

Doublehelix shrugged. "I never said I'd watch them. You can do it; your responsible." He was gone and out of sight in a matter of minutes.

"Doublehelix! Doublehelix! Oh, by Toutatis!" Vitalstatistix looked down at the two infants that were gazing up at him curiously. They were really too young to be watched by just him. Already they were glancing about, wide eyes taking in the world around them. Who knew what trouble a couple of children so young might get into. His thoughts were proven true as Vitalstatistix was forced to lurch forward, removing an unfortunate grasshopper from the chubbier baby's little hand. How - Obelix, wasn't it? - had managed to grab the critter was beyond Vitalstatistix's understanding; but the insect had very nearly become the babe's breakfast. The older boy carefully released the grasshopper into a bush, turning to find that Asterix had managed to roll over, getting into the dirty sand of the pathway.

With a sigh of frustration, and a lot of quick work, Vitalstatistix was successful in getting both babies inside his family's hut, with the half door closed to keep them in. It would be far easier to watch Asterix and Obelix indoors than outdoors...At least he hoped it would be...

* * *

Vitalstatistix was terribly bored. He had never been much of an indoor boy; and having to stay in his hut, trapped with two curious babies, was proving to be a pastime that he found anything but desirable. Asterix and Obelix, though they could not yet walk, or even move much at all, always seemed to find or get a hold of exactly what Vitalstatistix didn't want them too. The older boy ended up sitting on the floor with them, one held firmly on either side of him; the infants fussing and squirming uncomfortably. The mothers were taking far longer than they should have been; probably having found other women to gossip with. What was beginning to feel like hours had really only been about twenty minutes; still a long time for an anxious child.

Vitalstatistix spent most of his waiting grumbling softly to himself. The morning was getting on, and here he was stuck with two little babies, unable to join his friends down by the creek. They were probably waiting for him; having fun while he was left babysitting. It wasn't fair. The days of a school-free life were waning, and Vitalstatistix felt as though he were missing it all. Their education would be resuming at the end of the summer with the new addition to the village, Getafix, as their teacher. While Vitalstatistix liked the kindly druid just fine, he was certain the man was the sort to take school very seriously. They would actually be forced to learn; something that, frankly, he believed he didn't need. After all, what was so important about numbers and letters? He never used them when fishing, or playing. It seemed like a waste of time really.

A loud knock on the outside of the hut's half door broke Vitalstatistix's thoughts. "Who's there?"

"Itth usth!" a lisping voice sounded out, as the wooden frame was pushed inward. A young boy with blond hair poked his head in through the crack he had made. His only clothes were the red pants, brown shoes, and little apron he wore tied about his front. "What are you doing?" He spotted the other boys company, forcing his way in completely, followed by a number of other children.

To say that Vitalstatistix was embarrassed would be an understatement. Being caught playing nursemaid was not something that the other boys would let go of easily. But it was too late. "Don't laugh, Fulliautomatix!" he growled crankily at the other boys smiling face. "Unless you want a taste of my fist!" He balled one of his hands and shook it at the thinner boy.

Fulliautomatix bristled, stepping forward and yelling, "Oh yeah?!"

"Yeah!"

"Well, I-"

Both Asterix and Obelix let out a cry, bursting into tears at the older boys' raised voices. Vitalstatistix blinked in surprise before glaring back up at his companion. "Aw, see what you've gone and done! They were fine 'til you showed up!"

Fulliautomatix looked guilty, backing away as the two babies continued to wail. One of the other boys behind him, Unhygienix, stepped forward; leaning over and pointing at the culprits of all the raucous. "How do we get them to stop?"

"Give them something to play with," a third boy, dressed in blue and white answered. In his hands he clutched a small lyre. Hesitating, obviously not wanting to really share it, he handed Asterix the little instrument. Asterix was instantly distracted, stopping his crying at once. Obelix also stopped, but when he tried to reach for the lyre and wasn't given it, he burst into another round. The older boys covered their ears.

"Do you have another harp, Cacofonix?"

The blue-clothed boy shook his head. "Sorry, I've only got one." He looked to Fulliautomatix. "Why don't you hand him your hammer?"

The other lad looked extremely unhappy with that suggestion; but Obelix's cries were loud and increasingly painful to listen to. So, rather huffily, Fulliautomatix handed the baby his little wooden mallet he always carried with him. Obelix latched onto it happily, giggling in pleasure.

"Well, that's that."

"Yeah, but now how do we get our stuff back?"

Cacofonix shrugged. "They'll get bored with it eventually."

Vitalstatistix frowned at the slightly younger boy. "How do you know that?"

The child blushed. "I-I sometimes help watch Asterix; other times Obelix. They can be a handful, but I'm never allowed to watch them by myself," Cacofonix observed, seeming to realize that Vitalstatistix was alone.

The Chieftain's younger son frowned. "And I shouldn't be doing this by myself either. Doublehelix was supposed to help me, but he left."

The boys all made faces of distaste. Doublehelix was somewhat of a bully. Not in the sense of beating anyone up, but he always seemed to be able to sneak out of doing work, placing it on the shoulders of his younger brother; or anyone else he could con into doing the chore.

"Well, we can help," Cacofonix offered, cringing when his suggestion was met with several hard stares from the other boys.

Vitalstatistix looked defeated. "But what about going down to the creek? We were going to go catch frogs and stuff. Now I have to stay here with these two." He frowned down at the two infants, one of which was sucking on his shirt. He pulled the wet material out of the baby's mouth; relieved that he didn't cry when he did so.

All the boys stood silent, before Unhygienix again stepped forward. "Why don't we take them with us? We can watch them down by the water while we play. I'm sure they'd like it."

Cacofonix didn't seem so sure. "I don't know..."

"That's a great idea!" Vitalstatistix cut in, rising to his feet. He lifted Asterix and handed him to Unhygienix. "Here; you take him and I'll take Obelix."

Unhygienix looked into the babe's face, not seeming to know quite what to do. He very suddenly decided that he didn't want to be responsible for the infant and quickly handed him over to Fulliautomatix. Who then handed Asterix to Cacofonix. Asterix gave a coo, causing Cacofonix to sigh in resignation, positioning the child more comfortably in his arms. He still wasn't so sure this was such a good idea; but it wasn't really up to him. However, one more try couldn't hurt.

"You sure we won't get in trouble?"

"Oh, don't be silly," Unhygienix snapped. "We'll bring them back before anyone even knows it!"

With that, the boys headed out the door, two little babies in tow.

* * *

"This was a good idea," Vitalstatistix beamed happily, splashing a handful of water in Unhygienix's direction. The other boy giggled, blocking it the best he could before throwing a small wave back toward his friend.

The creek was the childrens' favorite place to play. Safe within the walls of the village, the small riverlet cascaded down out of a large rock pile in the eastern side of the Gaulish village.. It ran down in a relatively calm, straight manner, and then turned toward the wall, where it slipped under and flowed out to the sea. The water was cool and clear; the habitat of countless frogs and, once in a while, a few fish. The children often pretended that they were great Gaulish warriors; protecting their home from sea invasion. The 'sea', of course, being the creek.

While splashing about, Vitalstatistix kept an eye on Obelix and Asterix. The babies were gurgling happily on the shore, seeming to communicate that way. Their curiosity was boundless. Everything that moved, sparkled, or in other words existed, was of extreme interest. To Asterix especially, who reached out for a rock here, a leaf there; all items finding their way into the infant's mouth...or nearly so. Every time he passed the bank, wading through the water as he was, Vitalstatistix made sure to take away anything Asterix happened to be holding. It was tiresome, though not nearly as much as it had been back at his hut; trapped indoors. This enabled him to play and watch the little ones; though, more and more, his attention was turning to the former rather than the later.

"Look!" Cacofonix cried out joyfully, "I caught a little fish!"

The other children stamped through the water, moisture soaking all the way to the neckline of their tunics. The stream wasn't very deep, maybe about a foot and a half, but when you run through water of any height, it's bound to get you damp. Though, the riverlet definitely had its deeper spots. Running forward to the center of the creek, where Cacofonix stood perfectly still, hands cupped in front of him with water slowly dripping from between his fingers. He giggled whenever the creature in his little hands tickled against his skin. He almost wanted to drop it, but that wouldn't due. He had wanted to prove to the other boys that he could catch fish just as well as they could. The shame of possibly losing it now was unbearable.

"What kind of fish is it?" Unhygienix asked, coming forward and staring down with his large eyes into Cacofonix's hands; looking uncommonly like a fish himself.

Fulliautomatix sent him a glare. "You're the one whosthe father isth a fishmonger," he lisped. "You should know!"

The fishmonger's son looked insulted. Taking another glance at the fish, he declared, "It's a shark."

Cacofonix dropped the little fish at once.

"That'th no shark!" Fulliautomatix shouted. "You lying, just becauthe you don't want to look thilly!"

"I am not lying!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too! Iths just that your brainth are all methed up from breath'n in your father'th thtinky fish!"

That did it. In a cascading shower of splashing, kicking, and little-fisted punches, Unhygienix leaped upon the blacksmith's son with a yowl of anger. The others, who were not about to be left out, quickly joined the fray, yelling, hitting, and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Just like their fathers, the boys enjoyed a good punch-up. And seeing as this gave them a perfectly good reason to start one, there was no holding back. Their attention was completely and blissfully occupied.

Which meant, unfortunately, that no one was watching the babies.

Asterix and Obelix couldn't move very far, not yet having mastered the skill of walking. They hadn't even really mastered crawling as of yet. But that didn't mean that they couldn't move at all. Asterix especially had learned to slowly drag himself, one leg tucked beneath him, short distances. Obelix wasn't so fortunate, but he was contented, having rediscovered how much he enjoyed sucking on his own hand.

Asterix shifted a little closer to the creek's edge; big, brown eyes curiously taking in the sparkling water flowing gently past. Then, all at once, his gaze fell upon a number of little, black creatures nibbling at the grasses that dipped into the water. They wiggled and squirmed; dark, thin tails swishing about them. Asterix was far too young to know that they were tadpoles; newly hatched frogs who had not yet gained their legs and lost their tails. But, one thing Asterix did know, was that they were fascinating...and that he wanted to grab one. Letting out a giggle that went unheard by the babe's older companions, who were still deep in argument, Asterix edged just a little nearer.

By this time, Obelix had noticed his friend's interested stare, and somehow managed to roll closer as well. Looking down, he too spied the tadpoles. He also wished to reach out to touch them. By now lying on their stomachs, the two babies stretched out their stubby little arms, wiggling their fingers in anticipation. Asterix did fine, slowly leaning forward, running his hands through the water. But Obelix, who was far too top heavy for such an imbalance, tried to do the same. Which resulted in him tumbling right over the embankment and into the creek. The _deeper_ , _darker_ part of the creek.

Water from his friend's fall splashed into Asterix's face, getting up his nose and stinging his eyes. Rubbing his fists into them, Asterix seemed shocked a moment, finding himself wet and startled, before letting out a loud, wailing cry. The screech was more than sufficient to catch the attention of the older children.

Cacofonix turned first, having heard the high-pitched shout. His large blue eyes widened as they took in a soaking wet, crying Asterix, but absolutely no Obelix. "Where's the other baby?!" he cried out, his voice carrying very evident panic.

Vitalstatistix's head snapped in the direction of where he had placed the little ones, only to discover exactly what Cacofonix had. A sense of frantic energy filled him. His mind distractedly repeating over and over that they had been _his_ responsibility. The adults were going to _kill_ him. They had been _his_ responsibility.

Racing forward, Vitalstatistix waded swiftly into the deeper water. Luckily he knew how to open his eyes underwater. But the water proved to be far deeper than he had expected; all at once the ground seeming to fall out from underneath him. With a yelp of surprise, he went under. The calls and yells of his friends were instantly muffled; silenced into a muffled hum, as water filled his ears. For a moment he held his eyes slammed shut, but then remembered Obelix. Forcing his eyes back open, he gazed into the now murky depths. He saw Obelix at once. The babe had only been under for a few moments, but even that felt like an eternity. Reaching out, Vitalstatistix latched onto the baby and pushed back to the surface.

The moment they broke the water, Obelix let out a loud, sputtering wail; very piercing in Vitalstatistix's ears. But he had another, far more pressing problem to worry about. While Vitalstatistix himself knew how to swim, he found that doing so with a frightened child in one's arms was nearly impossible. His toes barely touched the creek's floor, and the weight of Obelix kept pushing him down. The other children couldn't reach him, and most of them still didn't know how to swim. The riverlet flowed slowly, but it was still moving him along, unfortunately to even deeper water. With a final yelp, Vitalstatistix no longer felt the ground at all, and went under, baby and all.

This situation may have turned out quite poorly. After all, while the creek would not be very deep at all to an adult, to a child, only about two feet tall, it could be quite a hazard. The children were only allowed to play in the water because the parents trusted them to stay clear of the darker water; that which was over their heads. But Vitalstatistix had had no choice; and that choice might have been the last on he had ever made...if not for the assistance of one person.

Getafix always enjoyed strolling the village. He had only been living there for the past ten months, since Asterix and Obelix had been born, but it was beginning to feel very much his home. He had been staying with Geriatrix all that time and, though he enjoyed the fellow's company, often went searching for a place to build his own cottage. He had found a spot near a creek, where the clear water ran by and supplied a quieter, more serene background. He visited it often, planning to talk with Semiautomatix and the rest of the building-capable men. All he needed was a safe place to brew his potions, and experiment without the fumes or (Toutatis forbid) explosions bothering the other villagers.

And today was one of those days. Geriatrix had been rattling off story after story about past times so far back it was impossible that he had even been alive to witness them. But Getafix had long since given up trying to figure out the old timer's true age, and so let him believe what he wanted. The stories themselves were quite interesting. However, twenty or thirty stories at once could be a bit much. So it had been today. Finally getting free of the old man and his tales, Getafix had decided that he would like to visit his prospective lot within the Gaulish village.

As he neared the creek, the sounds of several childrens' voices drifted to his ears on the wind. They sounded like shouts, and not the happy kind. Getafix, oddly enough, realized that they were simply fighting and thought no more of it. While the druid didn't necessarily support such behavior, he had come to find that it was a part of these Gauls' lives. To ban them from brawling would be like taking away their free will. The adults did it regularly; and it only made sense that the children should as well. As he turned the corner, he found exactly what he had expected; a raging circle of little fists, feet, and a lot of splashing water. Getafix stopped, smiling and giving a shake of his head, he just stood there. He didn't support this type of roughhousing, but the Gauls seemed to think of it quite highly. And so, Getafix, over the last ten months or so, had learned to stay clear. As long as no one got seriously hurt, everything was all right.

But then Getafix's eyes shifted a little to the left of the squabbling children. A look of surprise and confusion crossed his face as he rested his gaze on two little forms by the creek's edge. It took a moment for what he was seeing to process, before he realized it was the village's newest additions; Asterix and Obelix. Funny. He didn't see eithers' parents around. But that would mean the older children were watching them...But they weren't...which meant-

All at once, Obelix disappeared over the bank, into the water beyond it. There was a large splash, and then Asterix let out a cry. Getafix lurched forward, knowing he would have to sprint the distance before the baby drowned. As he ran, Getafix saw the older children turn, Vitalstatistix rushing forward to help. But the Chieftain's son, swim though he was able to, would not be able to hold a child of Obelix's size above water when he could not reach the bottom himself! The druid's thoughts proved true; Vitalstatistix rising from the water with Obelix in his grasp, only to bob for a moment and then slip back under.

Getafix arrived there only a fraction of a second later. The water only came up to his lower chest, and he could easily stand up. Reaching down where the two had disappeared, the druid grabbed a fistful of material and hoisted the weight up out of the water. Dangling miserably, coughing and sputtering, Vitalstatistix hung there; baby Obelix still grasped in his arms. Getafix turned, sloshing to the shore, where he gently set them down. Obelix sneezed once or twice before launching into a loud wail at the horrible ordeal he had just undergone.

Getafix lifted Obelix into his arms, trying to sooth him. The infant didn't seem to be hurt; just frightened. And maybe a little angry; as babies will be sometimes. As soon as Obelix's crying settled, the druid, picking up Asterix in his arms as well, looked around at the assembled children. Most of them were quite pale, frightened by the near-disaster. Others looked uncomfortable, as though they knew what had happened, and were partly responsible for it. But the face that was easiest to read was Vitalstatistix's. The pure terror and guilt the boy was demonstrating in his expression and tense body language was so clear, Getafix didn't even find it necessary to ask whose fault it was that Asterix and Obelix were here, down by the creek. _Unwatched_.

"I want you children to go play someplace else today. The creek is off limits until the water's depth diminishes."

There was an audible groan from all present, but like pups with their tales tucked between their legs, the youngsters turned and left to go and find someplace to play. They all sent Vitalstatistix sympathetic glances as they passed him. The Chieftain's son, to his credit, remained where he was. He knew he was at fault, and he knew that Getafix knew it too.

Once the last child had disappeared around the corner, Getafix turned a pair of stern eyes on the boy. "Vitalstatistix, tell me what happened. Why are Asterix and Obelix away from their mothers?"

Vitalstatistix traced a line in the dirt with his foot nervously. "Well, ah...I..." He sighed, trying to get himself in control and answer properly. "Sarsaparilla and Vanilla went with my mom to the market this morning, to buy breakfast." Getafix nodded, still looking firm, and the boy continued. "They told Doublehelix and I to watch Asterix and Obelix until they got back. But I wanted to go play, and since I couldn't leave them alone I...I took them with me." The child's voice rose up at the end, as though looking for approval. Getafix didn't give him any.

"Vitalstatistix, that was a very foolish thing to do."

The boy's spirits sank even lower. "I know."

"Something bad could have happened; it almost did!"

"Yes, Sir."

"What you did was very untrustworthy of you, and things could have gone very, very badly. Obelix could have drowned." The druid's face softened as he gazed down at the Chieftain's son. The boy's shoulders had slumped forward, and his head and eyes were averted in shame. Getafix had to try hard not to chuckle at the child's true and honest sorrow of what he had done. Kneeling the best he could with an armload of squirming infants, Getafix caught Vitalstatistix's gaze. "But you also jumped in that water to save Obelix, at the risk of your own life. That was a very brave thing to do." He smiled. "If you promise never to do it again, I'll keep this to myself."

That caught Vitalstatistix's attention. "You mean, you won't tell?"

"I won't tell." Getafix could see that the boy had learned his lesson. More chastisement would not be needed. Handing Asterix to Vitalstatistix, the druid placed his free hand on the older child's shoulders. "Let's get them back to your hut before they're missed."

* * *

It turned out that they already had been missed. The mothers had arrived back at the hut a good several moments before Vitalstatistix and Getafix did, carrying the babies. Needless to say, they were very worried, and Vitalstatistix's mother demanded to know where her son had been.

Vitalstatistix had looked up at Getafix. The druid was as good as his word; tight-lipped and completely ungiving of any information. And that filled the Chieftain's son with relief...but also guilt. The whole incident had really been his fault. To lie would only make him feel even more ashamed, and he really didn't want to be a disappointment to anyone. And so, taking a deep, shuttering breath, Vitalstatistix had told the truth.

It was easier than he had expected it to be. He was still sent to bed early as punishment, but it was a far better fate than the feelings of guilt he would have carried otherwise. His mother had made it quite clear that he would not be babysitting again for some time. Maybe forever. But that was alright by him. He wasn't used to having people under his care. He didn't like the idea of having to be responsible for others. And though he liked to play Chief, he was all at once very glad that Doublehelix was next in line for that. The thought of his brother made Vitalstatistix smile. Doublehelix hadn't gotten away with sneaking off and leaving his younger brother with the babies. As heir to the village, Doublehelix's punishment had been a tad bit harsher; including a very loud and angry speech delivered by his father. At least Vitalstatistix had been spared _that_. His big brother lay across the room from him, in bed and brooding. Justice in its very essence.

Despite his lecturing that he had received from his mother, Vitalstatistix didn't feel half as bad as he had expected to. That was partially due to the warmth that had filled him when Getafix had reacted to him telling the truth. The druid had locked eyes with him, a look of pride twinkling in his blue gaze. That alone had made everything a lot more bearable. All Vitalstatistix wanted was for someone to be proud of him. And he was glad that Getafix was, even if everyone else was not. Maybe their new druid wouldn't be so bad a teacher after all. The old fellow had already taught Vitalstatistix a lesson in truthfulness, even if the Chief's son himself didn't quite understand how.

So he got sent to bed early. _Real_ early; it was only late morning. But he realized that he had done what he should have. He had made a mistake, but had done his best to fix it. And when the next test had come his way, he had passed it with flying colors. That was something that made him feel very grown up all of a sudden. He felt older, more responsible; because he had taken responsibility for his actions. It really wasn't so bad. He was, after all, older than most of the children in the village. Why shouldn't he act older; take them under his wing?

Right then and there, Vitalstatistix decided that he would try to be an example for the others. He would try and do what was right, and maybe regain the trust his mistake that day had cost him. He knew he'd have Getafix's support. It was a worthy goal, and it was one he truly wanted to fulfill. Just no more _babysitting_ ; at least not until he was a little older.

What could it hurt...to act his age?


	2. Absence of a Heart

**Hello! I have an announcement for you Asterix fans! A new Asterix story is up (and no, it is not one of my own). A new writer on Fanfiction, Spanex, has started a fantastic crossover story called "Trials of Tyria". I highly recommend it; please go read and review!**

 **Just a heads up: this story is a little more serious than the last. Like I said, these shorts will all be different genres; some happy, some sad. Just wanted to reiterate. ;)**

* * *

 **Absence of a Heart**

They say that the longer you are separated from someone, the more feelings you have for them. It is a common saying, but not very specific. It doesn't explain whether those feeling are good or bad; whether it's a joy or a painful ache in one's heart. Maybe both. It doesn't paint a clear enough image to be of any comfort, or help. It's just a saying. Absence of a loved one can make love grow, but it can also make it fade. It can be replaced, sometimes by anger; other times fear. It can take the joy out of seeing someone, because you know that, very shortly, they will soon be gone again and that you will be left very much alone...

* * *

Getafix stood at the head of the assembled children. They were getting antsy, and he could see their excitement as the sun sank to that familiar height that every single one of them had memorized. When the sun seemed to get caught in the branches of the tree above him, Getafix would be dismissing the children from his care. From school. It wasn't a bad occupation, but it did require a considerable amount of patience. Gaulish children were rowdy, and energetic; nearly impossible to keep in one place for too long. But, somehow, Getafix always managed it, day after day. His firm voice seemed to have an effect on the young boys and girls, and though it was a chore to round them up, once they were seated it became a lot easier. The children liked to learn, interests peeked by different subjects. It made Getafix gain a whole new respect for his own mentor* back in the Carnutes.

The autumn sun finally moved in line with the branches as Getafix finished giving a lesson in history (Gaulish of course). Before he had even shut his mouth there was a mighty cheer, and up jumped the children, knowing that the druid could no longer hold them back. Getafix used the last fleeting moments to call out to different children as they seemed to pass him in a blur.

"Bacteria! Don't forget to finish those Greek letters now! Fulliautomatix, wait! You forgot your tablets! Vital-no, Vitalstatistix I said! Yes, tell your father about what you learned! Yes, that's a good Gaul! Unhygienix would you please stop bringing fish for your lunch! It stinks up the whole schoolyard!"

In a final rush, the last of the troop vanished back among the village huts, off to enjoy the remaining hours of daylight. For them, it was the freedom they had craved since that morning. Now that they finally had that freedom, nothing short of an army of warriors could keep them from their play. And even then, Getafix would bet on the children to win against them. The Gaulish youngsters certainly enjoyed their free time, and who was Getafix, their teacher, to stand in their way.

The druid flopped down to sit tiredly on a stool he had brought from Geriatrix's hut. He was still staying with the elderly fellow, though construction on his very own hut was now underway. He couldn't wait. Not that he disliked Geriatrix's company. It was just...he needed his privacy and space. He was always afraid of mixing potions within the old fellow's home. What with Geriatrix always sticking his nose into everything, Toutatis knew what could happen. Geriatrix might eat something he shouldn't, or get too close. And then there were the children. Curiosity was a common trait among youngsters, and Getafix needed to be sure that none of them would get into anything dangerous. And so, he was glad that he would soon have a cottage of his own, in which he could practice his works. In fact, he should probably stop by Semiautomatix's workshop to check on their progress...but there was one other matter to attend to first.

Getafix sat patiently under the great oak tree that overshadowed the school yard. He knew he wouldn't have long to wait, and he proved to be right; just like he was every other day. Shortly after the childrens' voices had faded away into the hustle and bustle of the village, Getafix heard the soft, timid steps of one of his far more quiet pupils.

"Ah, Cacofonix," he smiled, turning to face the approaching child. "You can come closer; they've all gone." He watched as the blond-haired boy looked about him nervously, before making his way over the grass to stand in front of his teacher. Once he was certain they were alone, the blue and white-clad child gave him a beaming smile of his own.

"I brought it."

Getafix held his hands out, gently taking the small piece of parchment from the boy's small ones. "Let's have a look," he grinned kindly. The paper was warn and dirty; well used to the point of near decay. It felt so brittle that Getafix often feared it would fall apart in his grasp. Though it never did. The parchment was rolled up like a scroll, and, ever so carefully, the druid unfurled it. His eyes shone in merriment at what he saw there.

The parchment was littered with various words and symbols, carefully inscribed in very small writing, to save space. But Getafix had seen all these in the previous weeks. What he smiled at now was the new scribbles that resided in the far right hand corner, at the bottom. There, printed, or rather, stained with what appeared to be berry juice or possibly red clay-water, was a drawing of a tiny music scale. Along the uneven lines perched three intricately drawn notes.

Getafix gave a chuckle, laying a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Very good, Cacofonix! Very nicely done. But, ah, you see this one?" He pointed to the particular note, trying not to outright laugh.

Cacofonix leaned forward, taking in the note the druid indicated. "Yes."

"It's backwards."

"Oh?" Cacofonix leaned even closer, frowning at his mistake. "Oh, I'll fix it."

Getafix laughed then, ruffling the child's light, blond hair. "No, no; that won't be necessary. You won't forget again. I know you; you won't forget. Now, pretend that this one is facing the right way, and tell me the names of these three notes."

Cacofonix nodded, reciting them perfectly. "An A, a B, and a C sharp."

"And which one did you get wrong?"

"The C sharp."

Getafix smiled. "Very good." He nodded toward the small harp that the boy clutched in his hand. "Can you play them?"

Hesitating a moment, Cacofonix quickly glanced about them. He wanted to make sure no one was watching or listening, other than Getafix. The little boy was truly grateful that the druid had consented to teach him how to read music, something that Cacofonix had wanted for a very long time. But he didn't want anyone else to know. For one thing, the other kids would probably laugh at him. The fact that he wanted to be a bard was already well known among them, and an endless source of jokes at his expense. Especially since, according to everyone else, Cacofonix couldn't sing. Whenever the boy opened his mouth, chaos would take place, as a mad scramble to escape his caterwauling always ensued. To Cacofonix, his voice was perfectly fine; a little untrained, maybe, but certainly not as bad as all that. Their reactions had little to no effect on his decision to become a bard; other than that he wanted to do so in secret.

Taking out his miniature harp, which Getafix had taught him to tune correctly, the boy ran his long, nimble fingers across the strings, plucking three notes in quick succession. Each one rang true; in perfect pitch. Cacofonix might not have had a talent for singing, but he could play quite skillfully. Getafix smiled at the way the child sped through his presentation. Reaching forward, the druid carefully rearranged Cacofonix's fingers so they would not interfere with the strings' vibrations.

"There, try it again; but this time, a little slower. Don't rush through it."

Again the three notes rang out in the serine area of the village, resounding and echoing into the cooling afternoon air. It was a peaceful sound; calming. Cacofonix gazed up at him with big, clear, blue eyes. "Like that?"

Getafix sighed contentedly. "Yes; very well done. Are you ready to learn three more?"

The boy nodded, though he looked a little disappointed. The druid noticed his mood change immediately, concerned.

"What's the matter?"

Cacofonix shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Well, Sir...It's just...Well, couldn't I just skip right to learning a song?"

Getafix blinked, then chuckled. "I'm afraid not. Songs are made of notes; and, as of yet, you have not learned them all."

"Do you know them all?"

"Yes, I do."

"Did it take you this long?"

Getafix thought back to his early years in the Carnutes as a child. Education then had included such things as the arts, music being among them. Though, to be truthful, Getafix had hated every minute of it. Being forced to love music is often the best way to kill an interest in it. As soon as he had been allowed to move on in his studies, leaving music behind, the druid had rejoiced. But the knowledge he had gained in reading notes and such had stayed with him, even after all these years. "Yes," he answered with a chuckle. "And many years more." Seeing the boy's crushed spirits dive even further, he added, "But you are doing so well, I might consider starting you on a very simple tune."

Cacofonix's eyes sparkled back to life immediately. "Really?!" He began to prance about in excitement, hands resting on the druid's robed knees. "Can we start now? Oh please, say we can!"

Getafix tried to look stern, but failed miserably. Finally, he relented. "All right, all right. Here, let me see your lyre." Cacofonix did so, and Getafix prepared to show the little boy the first few notes. But before he could do so, a shout sounded off to their left.

"Cacofonix!"

The bard-to-be gave a groan, sending Getafix an exasperated look. Turning, the two were greeted with the sight of one of the older boys, Soporifix, running toward them. Soporifix was one of the oldest children in the village, though he was very often a companion of Doublehelix, the Chieftain's eldest son. He beat Cacofonix in age by a good six years, though he was well-liked by all the younger children. He was a kindhearted soul; easily persuaded, which probably attributed to his rather reluctant connections to Doublehelix.

"Cacofonix, come to the village market, quick!"

Getafix grew concerned, thinking there might be an emergency that he hadn't been aware of. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sir," the older child replied, "I was sent for Cacofonix. His father has returned to the village."

That struck Getafix like a twenty ton menhir. Cacofonix's father? The druid had never even really thought the boy had one. Alive anyway. Since his coming to the village, Getafix had become very well acquainted with every single Gaul within its walls. He had become good friends with all of the children, as well as their parents. It had become very clear to him, very early on, that Cacofonix didn't appear to have any. The druid's natural assumption was that Cacofonix was an orphan. This was also backed up by the point that there were no bards in the village. Sons very often took up the occupation of their fathers. It was almost a rule; with few exceptions. Getafix had assumed; but now he saw that he was terribly mistaken. And a feeling of guilt found its way into his heart. Why hadn't he ever asked? Getafix frowned. Why hadn't anyone ever told him? It seemed that, in either case, someone would have mentioned the boy's parents. Wouldn't they have? It gave Getafix a rather uneasy feeling. That feeling increased when he looked down at Cacofonix himself.

The child's clear, blue eyes had opened wide, staring at Soporifix in a stunned, almost frightened way. Cacofonix seemed rooted to the spot, still clutching the druid's knees. It was very slight, but Getafix could have sworn that the boy was shaking. That didn't set well with the druid at all.

Getafix looked to Soporifix, as though looking for an explanation for the younger child's reaction, but found no answer there. Soporifix seemed calm and normal; unaware of Cacofonix's obvious distress. It seemed the older boy knew nothing that he would consider concerning, and yet, here Cacofonix was, looking scared out of his wits. Realizing that he would get no answers there, and that the child in question was in no condition to answer himself, Getafix gave as normal a smile as he could manage.

"Thank you, Soporifix," he said kindly, subconsciously placing a hand over one of Cacofonix's shivering ones. "I'll be done with him in a moment and then he'll be along."

That appeared to be enough explanation for the lad, and he nodded, heading back the way he had come. Once Soporifix was out of sight, Getafix carefully slipped off of his stool, coming to kneel in front of the trembling child before him. The child who only moments before had been happy and excited, and now wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"Cacofonix, is something wrong?"

The boy shook his head, but gave nothing more.

"Don't you want to see your...your father?" Getafix inquired.

Cacofonix hesitated a moment, but then nodded.

That only confused Getafix further. The boy obviously didn't...or did he? Getafix couldn't be sure. But, for whatever reason, Cacofonix was scared, and Getafix did not want to send the boy off alone; even if it was to see his own father. Coming to a solid decision, the druid stood to his feet. Holding out one of his elderly hands to the boy, he gave an encouraging smile. "Here. I'll come with you."

Cacofonix's eyes lifted to meet his with a mixture of startelment and hope gleaming in them. After a moment, he stretched out one of his little hands and slipped it into Getafix's own. He tried to control the trembles that ran from his body up through his arm. He didn't want Getafix to worry. He didn't want anyone to worry. He _wanted_ to see his father. He really did...He did, but why did he have to fear doing it so badly? There was no real reason why...Taking a deep breath, Cacofonix moved forward, comforted by the warmth of his teacher's hand gently griping his.

Getafix couldn't help but notice how tense the boy was...nor that Cacofonix had left his lyre behind.

* * *

The village market was alive with activity; far more than normal. Villagers packed the dusty way, talking excitedly at the small group of newcomers at their center. Getafix couldn't see the arrivals until he had shifted his way through the teaming crowd. It was four men, all Gauls, by the looks of them. They were decked out with baubles and trinkets, calling out to the excited women, while others, holding tools and such, called out to the men. It took Getafix several minutes, but he finally realized what he was looking at.

"They're merchants," he whispered to himself, taking in a nearby cart, painted with advertisements of various kinds. "Travelling merchants." He looked down at Cacofonix with a smile, expecting the boy to return it. His smile faded, as he saw that Cacofonix had not gotten any better, nor was he paying any attention to the druid at all. His clear, blue eyes were fastened on the merchants as they went from person to person, selling their merchandise. His eyes were trained on one in particular. Getafix followed the child's gaze, coming to rest on the object of Cacofonix's focus.

A tall, thin man, nearly as tall as Getafix himself, and dressed in dark, earth-colored clothes, was doing well selling his goods with the others. His hair was a light brown color, almost a sandy hue, and his eyes were dark, like his attire. But it was his nose that gave him away. Long and straight, it resembled Cacofonix's own very closely. Or, more accurately, Cacofonix's resembled his. This was Cacofonix's father. Getafix searched the man's face, as if expecting to find a hostile, monster of a man; if he were to go by Cacofonix's reaction. But he found no such thing. This man looked kind; a little persistent in his job perhaps, but otherwise perfectly normal. But how to convince the child still shivering at his side that that was the case? Getafix's dilemma was solved when the man in question was suddenly kneeling right in front of them.

"Cacofonix! My son, it is so good to see you!"

Before either the druid or the child could react, the man pulled the little fellow forward, enveloping him in a firm and loving embrace. Cacofonix stiffened for a moment, still griping Getafix's hand tightly. But then, all at once, all the tenseness in his little body seemed to drain away. Letting go of the druid completely, he wrapped his small arms around his father's neck in a heart-warming hug. "Father!"

Getafix smiled at the happy reunion, as the merchant held his son out at arms length.

"By Toutatis! You have _grown_!" He lightly tapped his son's chin with his fist. "So much since last year!"

Getafix's smile faded. "Last year?" The words came out on their own accord, having not been controlled or thought through. But the merchant didn't seem insulted. In fact, he seemed quite cheerful.

"Yes, my good fellow," he chuckled with good spirits, "It is very rare that I am able to come back here to the village, and during the autumn! Ah, I have not been here in the fall for many years. Is that not right, son?"

Cacofonix nodded, though, for the life of him, he couldn't remember a year when his father had been around in this particular season. It was probably back before he had even been born. But, for the sake of keeping his father happy, Cacofonix decided to keep that revelation to himself.

The merchant stood, extending his hand to the druid in a friendly gesture. "Countheprofix; travelling seller of merchandise from here to the far reaches of Mesopotamia and Egypt."

"Getafix." The druid shook hands firmly, smiling more genuinely now. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"As it is to meet you," Countheprofix replied with a grin. "Though, to tell you the truth, I see a lot of new faces here. Another disadvantage of being gone for so long." He took in Getafix more fully, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice. "You, ah, some kind of wise man?"

Getafix's smile slipped a little. "Why, yes; I guess you could say that. I'm a druid."

"Hmm. Interesting." The merchant gazed at him a moment more, thoughtfully, before giving Getafix an unexpected slap on the shoulder. "How about joining us for the late day meal?"

Getafix sputtered at the sudden, and rough, contact; but he managed a breathless, "I would be honored..."

"Good! We'll meet you outside the village after dusk. Cacofonix, come." And with that, the merchant turned and walked back to his work, selling his trinkets. Cacofonix trailed behind him, wringing the life from his tunic, which he held tightly, bunched up in his hands. His nervousness had obviously returned.

* * *

To say that Getafix had been confused would have been an understatement. It was a mystery to him why Countheprofix would want to meet outside the village; at least, until Getafix discovered that the merchants were not staying inside the village at all. Camped beneath the stars, in the grassy expanse that stretched between the Gaulish village and the woods, the merchants had made a bonfire. Tents, obviously of Egyptian design, were pitched, and cookware, probably Greek, were filled with various kinds of stews. The rousing aroma wafted through the village gates, increasing everyone's appetites within miles to the fullest.

Getafix had thought it strange that a feast had not been given; a common occurrence that he had witnessed time and again since his arrival. It seemed that the Gauls enjoyed any excuse to celebrate a new acquaintance or visitor. So, it was painfully out of place when the villagers neglected to do so now. There seemed to be a rift between the Gauls and the merchants; a sort of invisible wall. Sure, while Countheprofix and his fellows were selling their wares they had been received all right, but now that the buying and selling was over, most of the villagers seemed reluctant to go near their visitors at all. And visa versa. The only connection between the two was Cacofonix; stuck somewhere in the middle.

As Getafix made his way out of the gates and out onto the dew-covered grass, he took a deep breath of the chilly autumn air. The night was windless, which actually made it quite pleasant. Far above the moon shone; and stars, more than anyone could ever count, twinkled in a blanket of dazzling points of light. Getafix knew many of them by name. It always gave him a sense of security to see them; a constant reminder, a marker of where he was. Like having a map tucked under your arm as you travel, it gave a confident movement to his steps. He always knew where he was in relation to everything else.

As he neared the merchants' camp, the deep sounds of male voices could be heard, drifting toward him, though he couldn't hear what they were saying. Dark figures, four of them, moved and stood against the red flaming light of the fire. Suddenly, from sitting on a log, a fifth, and far smaller, figure leaped into a standing position. The patter of little feet against the earth was heard as the figure grew larger as it drew closer to the druid.

"Getafix!"

A moment later, in the starlight, Getafix saw that it was Cacofonix. The boy's eyes picked up the glow of the moon, making it easy to read his expression. He seemed very happy to see his teacher, and, altogether, quite cheerful. But that small hint of unease still existed in those eyes as well. Very faintly, and well hidden; but there all the same.

"We've been waiting for you," the child smiled, taking his hand and leading him forward. Cacofonix's hands were freezing, and Getafix noticed that the boy was hardly dressed for such a cool night. But the cold didn't seem to be bothering Cacofonix much, and they were about to be within the fire's warm reach in a moment. The child would be fine.

Cacofonix pulled Getafix into the light, calling out to his father as he did so. Countheprofix stood from his seat with a hearty laugh and a welcoming handshake. "Glad you could make it, druid! Please, come and warm yourself by the fire!" He indicated a log to his left, close to the heat of the flames. "The meal is nearly ready!"

Indeed it was. Before long, Getafix's stomach was full of all kinds of stews and meats; a feast in and of itself. Food, brought from all over, from the delicacies of Greece to the wines of Rome. Many stewed together in ways Getafix, personally, would never have tried, but turned out to be delicious. While his body was filled with food, Countheprofix filled the druid's mind with tales of adventures he and his fellow merchants had lived through. Storms, battles, travels, thieves, princes, kings; every possible acquaintance or situation was within his repertoire; an endless telling of tales. Though exciting, and told with all the skill of a trained storyteller, Getafix could not help but feel the arrogant and boastful pride that the man seemed to emanate. It was an unfortunate characteristic, seeing as he had so many other good qualities.

When the meal, and the tales, had finally come to an end, the merchant smiled. Leaning back, Countheprofix let out a contented sigh. "So, druid...Hm. We never had a man such as you in our village before. What do you do, if I may ask?"

Getafix shrugged modestly. "Nothing much, other than experiment with my potions and spells when I can. My main occupation with your village at the moment is teaching the children."

Countheprofix's smile disappeared.

Getafix didn't seem to notice the change in mood that seemed to come over the man. Nor did he notice the way the merchant's son flinched, sending a frightened, almost desperate look toward his druid. "Cacofonix has been doing splendidly," Getafix continued. "He even stays after class to learn more."

"In what?" Countheprofix's voice was low, and dripping with disapproval.

The druid snapped his attention back to his host, face filling with confusion. "Why, music mostly...Have I said something wrong?" He looked between the father and son, trying to piece together whatever he had just missed.

"Not at all," Countheprofix grinned, the smile that lit up his face looking very forced and fake. He lowered his eyes to his trembling son, a hint of anger slipping into his voice. "In fact, I'm glad you told me." He gave a laugh suddenly, shifting his mood again quite unexpectedly. "But the hour is late, and I must prepare for tomorrow morning!"

"Tomorrow morning?" Getafix raised an eyebrow questionably.

"Why yes, dear druid!" Countheprofix pushed himself to his feet. "My merry merchants and I leave for Lutetia an hour after dawn!" He smiled, assisting Getafix to his feet. "And such brief periods do I have with my son, that I should like to spend my remaining hours with him."

Getafix nodded. "I understand." He felt a little uneasy, leaving the boy there alone. But Countheprofix was Cacofonix's father. And no one had seemed concerned about letting the two go off alone before. The Gauls would have told him if something was wrong; Getafix was sure of it. And so, after bidding the travelers and their small charge goodnight, Getafix walked the short journey back to the village gates. Clouds had rolled in, covering up the stars that had shown so brilliantly before.

Getafix sighed, feeling just a little bit lost.

* * *

The days following only caused Getafix to feel more uneasy.

The morning after his meal with the visitors, true to Countheprofix's word, the merchants awoke early and, before the sun was barely clearing the treetops of the forest, were gone. The whole village had awakened early, to wish them a final farewell. It was a hurried affair, not emotional at all, to say the least. In fact, it seemed to Getafix that the merchants were quite eager to leave, and that the villagers were quite eager to see them gone. A confusing and troubling thought indeed.

But even more troubling still, was Cacofonix's disappearance. Oh, not complete disappearance; Getafix still spotted him sometimes, playing with the other children. But the child no longer came to school. Day after day, his spot on the wooden bench lay bare and empty. Whenever Getafix asked where Cacofonix was, the children would simply all shrug, having absolutely no clue. The closest he ever got to knowing was if one of the youngsters had happened to see the boy leave the gates to wander into the forest. Something that bothered the druid terribly. Children as young, and small, as Cacofonix should by no means be traipsing the woods alone. But Getafix, try as he might, could never find him. The child no longer showed up after class for his music lessons; leaving Getafix to wait, alone, sitting on his stool in the village school yard. But, from time to time, the druid would spot the boy, and make eye contact. Cacofonix would look startled and flee, as though he were afraid of him.

Getafix could never get close enough to catch him.

* * *

Cacofonix sat in Astronomix's hut, a smile pasted on his tired face. He was smiling because, for once, someone was smiling back at him. On his lap, Asterix, one of the village's newest additions, gazed up at him. Wide eyed and happy, the infant seemed to enjoy the older boy's company immensely; reaching up to lightly pull on the boy's golden hair. Perhaps it was because Asterix realized that they shared the same colored hair, or maybe it was the fact that it was so bright, shining with the sun's glow coming through the window. Whatever the reason, it kept the babe well-occupied.

In the corner, Sarsaparilla swept the floor, kicking up numerous clouds of dust. Every so often, she'd steal a glance in the two boys' direction; smiling as she watched them play. Cacofonix was the perfect babysitter. Though, Sarsaparilla would never have left him alone. She and Vanilla had made that mistake four months ago. They had left their two infant sons with the Chieftain's two boys. One, Doublehelix was plenty old enough, but the boy had abandoned his post, leaving the task to his six-year-old brother, Vitalstatistix. The little boy had tried his best, of that Sarsaparilla was certain, but he had made a mistake that had very nearly cost the life of both him and Vanilla's son. If not for their good druid, Getafix, things might not have turned out as well as they had.

She watched as Cacofonix played with Asterix, allowing the infant to pull gently at his hair. The boy looked more tired than usual; his eyes seeming to have lost some of their sparkle. A small sniff now and then alerted the Gaulish mother to a slight cold the child seemed to have caught sometime during the week, causing her to feel the blossom of concern bloom within her. She began to wonder if she should mention it. When the boy suddenly sneezed, Sarsaparilla made up her mind. Placing her broom aside, she quickly made her way to kneel in front of him. Asterix reached up to her, letting out a small cry that sounded very much like the word 'up'. But for the moment, Sarsaparilla ignored her son.

"Cacofonix, dear, are you feeling all right?" She placed a hand on the boy's forehead, before pulling it back. "Why, you're warm!" Taking Asterix carefully from the older child, she stood. "Come with me."

Cacofonix got to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"To see Getafix. You are obviously unwell."

Sarsaparilla had not been prepared for the reaction she received. Cacofonix pulled away from her, backing up a few steps and shaking his head fearfully. "N-no. No, th-that's alright. I'm fine."

Sarsaparilla's voice became a little sterner. "Cacofonix, you are sick. You must go see the druid. What if it's something serious?"

Cacofonix highly doubted that it was. "I...I'll go. You're busy with Asterix. I'll go."

The Gaulish woman seemed hesitant, but Asterix started fussing in her arms, and she knew that she couldn't risk him crying when she took him outdoors. Not so close to his nap time; she'd never get him to sleep. "Alright. But make sure you do."

Cacofonix nodded, before hurriedly making an exit.

* * *

 _Knock! Knock! Knock!_

The sound of someone pounding on the door caused Getafix to nearly drop the book he had been studying. The noise was loud and intrusive in the quiet tranquility of Geriatrix's hut. Motioning for the old Gaul to stay seated where he was, Getafix moved to open the door himself. He was delighted, though also surprised, to find Astronomix's wife, Sarsaparilla, outside of it.

"Why, Sarsaparilla! How good to see you!" But then he took in her worried expression. "Is something the matter?"

She answered his question with a question of her own. "Getafix, you haven't seen Cacofonix around, have you? He's ill, and I sent him along to see you. I had to put Asterix down for his nap, but then I left him with Vanilla and came to check myself."

The druid's face clouded. "No, I'm afraid I haven't. Does what he has appear to be serious?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. Oh, I hope not!" She was obviously starting to get upset. Getafix took a gentle hold of her hand, patting it comfortingly.

"Now, now, Sarsaparilla; don't get too worked up about this. I'll find him." She opened her mouth to protest, but Getafix quickly cut her off. "I'll find him," he repeated. "You go along and keep your eye on Asterix; in case he develops any symptoms from his contact with Cacofonix." That caught the woman's attention. Within moments, she had turned and left. Getafix shut the door with a gentle, but firm, _bang_. Rushing over to a small collection of bottles he kept on a shelf over his cot, he picked out a few certain ones, tossing them into a small satchel. All the while he muttered to himself.

"Really, I don't know what's up with that boy! He's all at once up and jittering about. He runs whenever I see him. It's just not normal!" He turned in frustration to Geriatrix, lifting his arms out from his sides in exasperation. "Are all you Gauls this complicated to understand?" He turned to throw a few more items into his bag.

Geriatrix stayed silent a moment, looking thoughtful as he watched Getafix work. Then, he shrugged, but not in a careless way. "Not all of us. Just Cacofonix in particular." His tone of voice and the sad shake of his head made Getafix pause.

"What do you mean?"

Geriatrix stood from his seat, becoming far more serious than Getafix had ever known him to be. He walked over to the window, gazing out to the bright sunshine beyond. "I have a feeling that that youngster is going to need far more than just your potions." He looked Getafix in the eyes. "That's the only reason I'm going to tell you this. And you mustn't tell anyone else. Enough people know already."

Getafix nodded, standing stock-still, as though moving would keep Geriatrix from telling him. In all truth, Getafix had known there had to be something more for days. Some back story he wasn't aware of, and it had frustrated him that no one had come forward to tell him anything about it. But it hadn't been his place to ask. Now that he was going to hear everything; all of a sudden he found he was feeling very apprehensive.

Geriatrix gave a sort of sighing huff and a long pause before beginning. "Cacofonix...was born to Countheprofix and Scordatura. They lived here; having both been born in the village themselves. Scordatura was a musician, with a voice low and calming. She used to teach the children; much like you do now. Countheprofix loved her very much." The elderly man's face grew sorrowful. "But then...one day, just before Cacofonix's second birthday...she became very ill, and...well..." Geriatrix paused, looking distressed. But Getafix nodded his understanding; knowing that the poor woman had died. Geriatrix continued. "Countheprofix was never the same after that. He became...odd. Leaving the village for long periods of time. Those of us who could, took over watching Cacofonix; never knowing when his father would return to do so himself. Countheprofix didn't want to live in the village anymore, and...and he didn't want to be around his own son."

Getafix was surprised by the amount of anger that seeped into the old man's voice. Though he certainly couldn't blame him. "What! But...why?"

"Because," the elder said softly, "Cacofonix looks an awful lot like his mother. She had golden, blond hair and the clearest blue eyes...Cacofonix has those features, and...and that was just something that, for years, Countheprofix couldn't stand to look at."

"But he's his son!"

Geriatrix flinched at the druid's shout. "Shh! Yes, he is. And Countheprofix still loves him. And now, he visits from time to time. But never for long. I...I don't think Cacofonix understands why. He probably doesn't even remember his mother. In all truth, he can't really know his father either; because his father was never really there for him. The boy probably...blames himself."

Getafix sighed in frustration. Fine. So now he knew the answers, but not all of them. The rest were ones that only Cacofonix himself could give. "Who else knows of this?"

"Me, the Chief, and most of the other adults. We have never told the children. We never saw a reason too." He looked guilty. "Nor have we told Cacofonix." His face became grim. "Countheprofix isn't a bad man; but he is a terrible father. If, last he was here, he found out that Cacofonix was learning, not only in studies, but also in music; it is very possible that he said something to the boy to make him stop. To stay away from you."

"Why is that?!"

"Because, again, learning and music both remind him of something very dear to him that he has lost. He does not want Cacofonix to be like his mother." Geriatrix smiled bitterly. "Little does he realize just how much like her Cacofonix already is."

Getafix nodded. Geriatrix was right; Cacofonix was going to need a lot more than just potions. "I'll be back." With that, the druid grabbed his satchel and rushed out of the door.

* * *

Cacofonix sat very still, high in the branches of a tree on the fringes of the forest. He was never brave enough to go any further in, and so settled for the cover of the leaves. He was a fairly good climber, and enjoyed the view. When he was up this high, he was able to look down on the world, instead of the world looking down on him. He had been crying, but had found that that had made his stuffy nose worse, and had quickly put an end to it. He plucked leaves from the foliage around him, absently tearing them and letting them fall to the ground below him.

That was what gave him away.

Getafix had charged into the woods, eyes sharp with determination. He had been told by the other children that Cacofonix had once again gone into the forest, alone. That would not do, and Getafix was fixed and ready to get to the bottom of all his questions and get the ill child in bed. If it meant charging off into the forest, so be it. If it meant searching every nook and cranny, so be it.

Thankfully though, his search was rewarded much sooner than that. He had barely been walking for more than a minute before he noticed a light rustle in the tree above him. A number of leaves, torn in half in a very unnatural way, lay around its trunk. Knowing that he had found the boy, Getafix raised his voice in a no-nonsense tone.

"Cacofonix, come here."

The rustling stopped.

"I know you're there. Now, come here."

After a pause, the rustling continued, and very soon Cacofonix stood before him, looking very pale and very tired. Just his appearance made Getafix want to reach forward and hug him; tell him everything was alright. But, somehow, that just didn't feel like the right thing to do. Not just yet. Managing to remain stern, though not angry, Getafix crossed his arms over his chest. "I haven't seen you at school lately." His heart nearly broke when Cacofonix flinched back, but he managed to hold his feelings hidden. "Why is that?"

"I...I-I..." Cacofonix swallowed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

The child shrugged, blinking back tears and averting his gaze.

"And you haven't come for your lessons in music either. Why?"

"I-"

"Can't? Why can't you?"

"BECAUSE! I JUST CAN'T!" The child burst into tears, rubbing his fists into his tired eyes. Cacofonix _never_ yelled. _Never_. Getafix had never heard a more heartbroken cry.

The druid broke then. Kneeling down he pulled the boy into a comforting embrace. Cacofonix latched onto the front of his white robe as though it were a lifeline. He was trembling again, and hot with fever, Getafix realized with concern. After several moments, Cacofonix's sobs quieted into sniffles, and then silence. Getafix waited until he was sure the boy was calm before gently moving the child to stand in front of him. Cacofonix wouldn't meet his eyes, swiping his sleeve across his face to get rid of the tears.

"Cacofonix...That night the merchants came...Did your father say something to you? About school? About me?"

The child nodded; too exhausted to keep the secret any longer.

Getafix frowned. "What did he say?"

Cacofonix would have cried more then, but he just didn't have the tears, nor the energy, to do so. "He...He said he didn't want me to go to school anymore...He said you were a bad..a bad in-flu-ants." The boy finally looked up into Getafix's eyes with his fogged, tear-stained, blue ones. "He...he said I can't become a bard. That he doesn't want me to learn...to learn music." His sentence ended with a hiccup, and he buried his head back into Getafix's robe.

Getafix nodded slowly, gently rubbing the child's back. "You knew that before he came, didn't you?" he whispered. "That's why you left your lyre behind...You didn't want him to know." Getafix's voice suddenly became guilty and bitter. "And then I had to go and open my big mouth and tell him about how I was teaching you to read music."

Cacofonix nodded, looking paler by the minute. "H-he was mad. He said that he wanted me to be like him..." A few more tears managed to fall from the boys eyes; the only ones he had left. "But I-I don't _want_ to be h-him!" he wailed suddenly. "I-I want to be m-me!"

Getafix frowned even harder. "Well, then; that's easy," he soothed. "It's not up to him." He knew he was out of line to say it; but he didn't care. Holding Cacofonix out in front of him, he gave his warmest smile. "That's up to you. What do _you_ want to be, Cacofonix?"

The boy hesitated. "A...A bard."

"What does _he_ want you to be?"

"A m-merchant."

"Is that what you want?"

"...No."

Getafix smiled. In his mind he felt it was justified. Countheprofix had been gone most of Cacofonix's young life. The merchant didn't know his son; any more than Cacofonix knew his father. They had been separated so long, they had absolutely nothing in common, other than blood relations. What right did Countheprofix have to come barreling in and cause this child's life to fall to pieces? None...Other than that he was the boy's father. Now that was a problem. But it was one that Getafix was willing to take the chance in breaking. He had watched a perfectly bright, happy child stumble into depression and illness, all within a span of a week. And all because his father didn't know his son.

Now, Getafix was sure that Countheprofix was only trying to do what was best; but the druid knew Cacofonix well enough to know that banning the child from school and music, his two most treasured pastimes, would be far more harmful than helpful. Had Countheprofix been there, right at that moment, Getafix would have told him so. But, the truth was, he wasn't there. And Cacofonix needed quick healing, before he got worse. For Cacofonix's sake, he would take that step, and go against Countheprofix's wishes. For Cacofonix's sake. He knew that meant confrontation later; but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he had a ill child, in both body and soul, to heal.

Reaching into his bag, Getafix took out the boy's little harp. He had brought it with him, last minute; thinking that, perhaps, it would help things in some way. "Here."

Cacofonix flinched away from it at first; but then, slowly, his little hand reached out and gently took the lyre. With a sigh, as though some pain had just been relieved, he snatched it to his chest. But that fear still remained. "But, Father-"

"Next time your father comes to visit, I will talk with him," Getafix said softly. "In the meantime, why don't you go back to the way things were before. You're doing so well. It would be a shame to give up now."

Slowly, and with a spreading smile that lit up the child's face like the sun, Cacofonix nodded.

"Good." Getafix stood, stretching his back. Reaching out, he allowed the bard-to-be to slip his hand in his. "Now let's go get rid of that cold of yours. You need rest, and may have to stay in bed a few days." He noticed the child's disappointment. "But I'll make it worth while," he added quickly. "How would you like to learn that tune I promised you?"

Blue eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, please!" And then, very quietly:

"Thank you."

* * *

 ***The Venerable Druid**

 **This short story was a little more dramatic than the first one, and (as you may have seen) ends a little unfinished. That's because I'm expecting to write a few other shorts about this subject later on, until our little bard's problems are resolved.**

 **Why did I write this story? Well, like a few other Asterix Fanfiction writers (including Fan de Basil de Baker Street), I had noticed the absence of Cacofonix's parents in the comics. They are never shown or mentioned. Now, the natural assumption then would be that Cacofonix was an orphan, but Fan de Basil de Baker Street has already used that in her wonderful story "Astérix et l'Urne Magique". I did not want to copy or steal from her ideas and stories, so I came up with a different reason for the absence of the bard's parents. :)**


	3. Differences

**Differences**

No two people are the same. Not exactly. Even twins have something that makes one not like the other. Sometimes it's outward appearances. Sometimes it's inner. But one thing you can always be sure of, is that we all have our differences. Some like one thing, some like another. Sometimes these differences make the foundings of a great friendship; fitting together like two pieces of some vast puzzle. Perfect mirrors in every way. But others seem to repel one another; their differences so great it's a wonder they're friends at all. They're just too different...or are they?

* * *

"Take that back!"

"I will not!"

"You will!"

"I won't!"

"I say you will!"

"Well, I thay I won't!"

Children gathered around as the shouting match escalated in intensity. It was sure to be a good show; what with it being _these_ two again. A fight was absolutely certain; they just had to wait for it to start so that they could join in. And so they gathered, watching and waiting.

Fulliautomatix drew himself up to his full height; which in all truth, wasn't very tall. His face was hot with anger, but it also held a smirk; a fierce, teasing look. "I thaid what I meant, an' I'm not take'n it back! Your father'th fish sthtink!"

Unhygienix glared hatefully at the other child, his eyes glassy and wide; stung by the insult to his father's occupation. His little fists clenched at his sides, screwing up as much anger into his short, stubby body as possible. Having already bandied words with his rival, the fishmonger's son decided it was time to move on to the next level of their, by now, very common routine. Without any further thought, Unhygienix pulled back a balled hand and let it fly, catching Fulliautomatix full in the eye.

The blacksmith's son gave a cry, falling backward to the ground with a thump. He sat there a moment, as if in shock, holding a hand to the black circle that was beginning to form around his eye. He gave a little hiss of pain, or anger, before leaping to his feet to return the favor. He caught Unhygienix right in the chin, followed by a kick in the knee. Unhygienix responded with a rough push, which Fulliautomatix returned. And then it started; the all-out brawl. The fishmonger's son launched himself into his companion, little fists and feet going at it with a will.

"A fight! A fight!" the other children called, clapping in anticipation. Without further adieu, the youngsters all joined in the battle, becoming little more than a cloud of punching, kicking, shouting, and name-calling. Dust billowed up from where they fought, making the path seem far dirtier than it usually did. But fights like these were very common in the village. Hardly a day went by without a brawl somewhere, started either by the adults, or their children. It was the quickest, and most entertaining way to solve any argument; even if it left one feeling a bit sore afterwards. The bruises were worth it. The strongest won; skill over knowledge, with no room for 'talking it out'. Why waste time with words that which could be settled with actions?

"Enough! STOP!"

The loud voice broke into the cacophony of battering and yelling, causing the children to pause at once and cringe as they backed away from the scuffle. Well, most of the children. Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix were still rolling about, getting in as many punches as they could manage. In all honesty, they had not heard the shout, their own voices having masked it to their ears. It wasn't until a pair of strong, burly hands roughly lifted them up, pulling them apart, that they realized they had been caught.

"I said ENOUGH!"

Fulliautomatix flinched as he followed the length of the arm that held him, up into the frustrated face of his father, Semiautomatix. Unhygienix looked just as nervous, rolling up into a ball of boar-fur tunic and bruises. While neither boy expected Semiautomatix to hurt them in any way, Fulliautomatix's father was a stern man; not mean or cruel, but certainly intimidating. He was large and strong, after years of hammering away at iron and steel. His temper was legendary, both among the Gauls and anyone else outside the village who dared to call upon his wrath, a characteristic which, it seemed, had been passed down to his son. While a nice enough fellow ordinarily, to bring about Semiautomatix's anger was always a mistake.

A mistake both Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix had just unwittingly made.

"How many times must I tell you to _stop_ this?!" he bellowed, setting the boys back on the ground, releasing his hold on Unhygienix. On his son, however, he kept a firm grip, not tightly, but so as the boy could not wiggle away. His question was directed to Fulliautomatix, and caused the child to shrink into himself with shame, refusing to look his father in the eyes. He tried to paste a defiant glare on his face, afraid to let everyone see just how much his father's words hurt. That was another thing Fulliautomatix had inherited from his father. Pride.

"I-I wasth just pla-"

"Playing?! Fulliautomatix, does this look like playing?!" He gestured to the fishmonger's son, who was standing there, bruised and dirty, looking particularly pitiful. Fulliautomatix sent his companion a glare, knowing that he was milking his 'injuries' for all he was worth. Unhygienix was tough, just as he was. He wasn't hurt. He was just pretending. Even though some of those bruises where pretty bad looking...

"But, Dad," Fulliautomatix whined, somewhat recovered from his intimidation. "You grown upsth fight all the time!"

Semiautomatix frowned. "Young man, that is beside the point!" He looked up as someone else approached, groaning when he saw it was Unhealthix, Unhygienix's father. He squared his shoulders, knowing that the exchange was not going to be pleasant. As the fishmonger came to stand by his battered son, Semiautomatix fixed his face in a serious scowl. "Greetings, Unhealthix. It seems we are faced with our usual dilemma regarding our sons."

"You mean _your_ son!" Unhealthix growled, moving his young boy closer to his side and away from Fulliautomatix with one of his large, meaty hands. Unhygienix looked up at his father with a mix of gratitude and fear. He was glad that he had Unhealthix there to argue his case, but at the same time he could sense that his father was quite mad with him as well. There would be no pleasant conversations on the way home today.

Semiautomatix's manner became far less controlled. He let go of Fulliautomatix's arm, crossing his own over his broad, aproned chest. "Not quite. I was referring to both our sons." The statement was deep and low, a sign that he was trying to retain his adult reasoning, and attempting to keep his temper at bay.

"You need to get that boy under control, before someone gets hurt!" Unhealthix continued hotly, poking a chubby finger in Semiautomatix's face. "He needs to stop taking lessons from his father!"

"Now what's that supposed to mean?!" Semiautomatix growled, squinting one eye as if daring his neighbor to reiterate.

"Exactly what it sounds like!"

"Take that back!" Semiautomatix roared, giving Unhealthix a childish shove that nearly sent the fishmonger sprawling. Unhygienix and Fulliautomatix backed away nervously. It was one thing to be caught up in little Gaul fight, but to get mixed up in an adult fight would be dangerous. With bigger fists, more strength, and more power to each angry swipe, they could really get quite violent. No one ever got hurt, not usually, thank Toutatis, but that would easily change should a child get caught in the fray.

"I will not!" Unhealthix snarled in return.

"You will!"

"I won't!"

"I say you will!"

"Well, I say I won't!"

The two launched at each other, punching and shouting, looking very much like an older version of their two sons. Dust kicked up, billowing out around them, as Gauls, both young and old, came to watch the familiar sight. Chickens ran for cover, lest they be used as a weapon as more and more Gauls joined the fight. Soon the square was teaming with angry shouts, punching, kicking legs, and swinging arms. Geriatrix shuffled around the outskirts of the brawl, hitting anything that stuck out in his direction with his T-shaped cane.

Getafix, their fairly new druid, came rushing out of the chieftain's hut, with the Chief following close behind. They came to a halt, looks of surprise on their faces. It was far to early for this. It was only two hours after the cock crow, and already the village was in an uproar. Seeing that at the core of the fight rolled two very familiar figures, the Chief knew at once who was to blame.

"Hey! Hey, stop that!" Getafix tried his best to break it up, but all in vain. He still wasn't used to seeing this type of behavior. The Druids in the Carnutes had never squabbled like this. Not since they were very young. Getafix could remember getting into a fight with a classmate once, the only one he had ever participated in. And that he had won. But he had also then been disciplined by the Venerable Druid for his actions, and, out of respect, had never done it again. In all truth, the Gaulish way of working out their differences frightened him. It seemed so counterproductive, in that it made everything so chaotic. How could punching every face in sight possibly settle anything? Half of these men didn't even know what the fight was even about for Toutatis sake!

"EVERYBODY STOP IT!"

The Gauls all froze at the angry yell. For a man of his small stature, the Gaulish Chief had a voice like a ram's horn when he needed to gain attention. It was an essential skill when one ruled over such a rowdy bunch of natives.

"THERE WILL BE NO MORE FIGHTING! BREAK IT UP!" He coughed, the yelling having irritated his throat, along with the still rising dust. But his eyes held a firm order, that the Gauls quickly decided would be better if they obeyed. Semiautomatix and Unhealthix stood in the center of the square, glaring at each other as the crowd dissipated. The Chieftain frowned pointedly. "Come on, you two. I said break it up!"

"Yeah, go cool down in your shop, blacksmith!" Unhealthix growled, rubbing a very large bruise he had received on his arm. He started walking away, taking Unhygienix's hand and leading him away as well, the child looking rather regretful and tired. "And keep your boy away from my son!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"And you keep yours away from mine!" Semiautomatix shot back. He took Fulliautomatix's hand, leading him in the opposite direction with quick, strong strides that his son was hard pressed to match.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Stomping away in frustration, the two men went there separate ways, pulling their sons along swiftly behind them.

Fulliautomatix winced slightly at his father's tight grip on his shoulder as he was steered in the direction of their home. He was starting to feel guilty, about having been the start of this whole thing, knowing that if he and Unhygienix hadn't fought, then the adults wouldn't have either. They certainly hadn't planned it. It was just like second nature sometimes. The way it had always been. They arrived home, Semiautomatix leading his son inside before entering himself and slamming the door shut. He stood, hands over his chest, glaring down at the culprit that was his only child.

Fulliautomatix was able to hold his gaze for only a few moments, before he lowered his eyes to the floor. "Dad, I-"

"Go to your room, Fulliautomatix," his father said sternly, not even letting him finish. "This discussion is over. I am ashamed of your behavior. What would your mother say?"

Fulliautomatix flinched, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. Not here.

His father continued angrily. "You will not be allowed to play with that fishmonger's son any more. Is that clear?"

Fulliautomatix blinked in surprise, his sadness momentarily forgotten, his shock quickly turning into disbelief. "But-"

"Is that clear?!"

The young Gaul fixed his eyes back on the floor. He had really done it this time. "Y-Yes."

His father nodded, heading back to his shop. "Good. Now go to your room. I'll tell you when you can come down."

Fulliautomatix blinked back a few tears, turned sharply, and ascended the ladder to the loft. Had he had a door, he would have slammed it. But he didn't. There was nothing to throw, or kick, or smash. Just his bed, and he needed that. He stood in the room a moment, eyes welling up with frustrated tears, one eye swelling from the fight. His little hands curled into fists, before he jumped into his cot, curling up and crying softly.

"Sthupid Unhygienixth!" Fulliautomatix wept quietly, not wanting his father to hear. He gave his pillow a punch, releasing the hurt and guilt he was feeling. But now those feelings had been replaced with anger and a sense of injustice. How was he supposed to know how to act? Especially when even the adults acted the same way? How was he supposed to make his father proud when following his father's example only got him in trouble? Again the child switched his blame to his friend, sneering at just the thought of Unhygienix. "He tshould have fought quieter!" he growled, hitting the pillow again. "I don't need to play with him anyway! Sthupid kid." The blame in his mind switched again. "Dad isn't fair! He can't treat me like thisth...I'm a big kid...I'm all growed up...I can take care of mythelf! I don't need him, or Unhygienix...or anyone!"

That being said, Fulliautomatix scrambled down from his bed, the straw rustling as he slid down to the floor. He wiped his tears away roughly with the back of his hand before ducking down under his bed. He pulled out a small sack, the one he usually kept his lunch in for school. It was old and frayed, the fabric starting to unravel, but it had always served its purpose. Emptying it of a few old apple cores, he began to pack it with a few of his favorite items. He took out of a little box a couple of coins his father had given him. He threw them in the sack, along with a thin blanket, an extra pair of pants, and a few of his carved toys that Geriatrix had whittled for him. He threw them all in the sack with a nod of satisfaction.

Squaring his small shoulders, Fulliautomatix tip-toed to the ladder, listening intently for any signs of his father. He could hear the sharp sound of mallet against metal, and knew his father was working in the shop. He could tell, just by the pitch of each hit, that his father was still angry. But that didn't matter. Before long, he wouldn't be around to bother his father any more. Slowly, his shoed feet carefully edging down each rung, Fulliautomatix made his way down, eyes almost constantly in the direction of the adjourning shop. He padded over to the store room, grabbing a few apples and a loaf of bread. These too he threw in the bag. Tying the end, he fixed it to the handle of his little, wooden mallet which he had left by the table.

"There," he whispered to himself softly, as he began making his way toward the door. It creaked slightly as he opened it, and froze, afraid that it may have alerted his father. He held his breath for several moments, until it became clear that he had been lucky. Squeezing out through the crack between the door and the frame, he carefully stepped outside.

The air had changed a lot since that morning, having started during their fights. The sky, which had been clear and sunny, was now clouding over with grey and dark patches heading south from the sea. The wind had picked up, and the smell of rain was quite prominent. But Fulliautomatix didn't even notice, or, at least, he chose to ignore it. Shouldering his hammer and sack on his shoulder, he carefully made his way toward the gate. He went the back way, behind his father's shop, so that he wouldn't be seen or stopped. He knew that if any adult saw him, they would bring him right home, and then he would be in even more trouble than before. And he didn't want that. He knew his father was disappointed in him. He felt horrible about it, but he also felt greatly wronged. And hurt. He couldn't help who he was, anymore than the cock could keep from crowing. If his father couldn't accept that then...then he'd go somewhere where there were people who could.

He made it to the gate unseen, mostly because everyone was inside, anticipating the coming storm. He walked swiftly through the open gate, breaking into a run to cross the meadow between the village and the woods as fast as possible. The grass, which was awful dry, crackled beneath his feet. The rain that was coming would do it good. It had been a dry year. Soon the grass turned to loam, as the little Gaul slowed to walk under the cover of the forested trees. He cast a single glance behind him, a look of sadness flitting across his face. But then his expression hardened. Again squaring his shoulders, he turned and marched into the woods, with no plans of ever returning.

It wasn't long before he was walking in a part of the forest that he didn't recognize. The Gaulish children had always played in the woods, with adult supervision, but they had never gone this far. The boulders, and trees, and bushes; they were all unfamiliar. The sky had darkened to a nasty shade of black, and the wind had picked up to a violent breeze that tore weaker leaves right of the trees. Fulliautomatix began to feel a little nervous. He paused in his path, looking around fearfully, not nearly as confident as he had been a little while ago.

 _SNAP!_

Fulliautomatix jumped at the sound of a twig snapping, eyes growing wide as he dropped his luggage in fright. "W-W-Who'th there?!" He tried to sound like a big kid; like a warrior, but instead his voice came out as a terrified squeak. He watched fearfully as several more sounds broke out, all getting steadily nearer. He prepared to be eaten by some foul beast, but then, in an equally frightened tone, a second voice called out through the wind.

"Wait! Fulliautomatix, it's me...Unhygienix!" The plumper, Gaulish boy emerged, rather sheepishly, from the underbrush. Leaves were caught in his hair, and a few small twigs had gotten caught in the fur of his vest. He carried nothing with him, and appeared quite out of breath. His bare feet stood, toes inward, uncertain of where to stand as he struggled with the uncomfortable situation.

Fulliautomatix blinked, truly surprise at seeing his friend before him, before he frowned in disapproval. "Oh, well...What are you doing here? I'm not thsupposed to talk to you anymore." He crossed his arms over his little chest, giving his very best glare.

Unhygienix fiddled with his fingers, not looking his friend in the eyes, finding the ground suddenly very interesting. "I know...My dad told me the same thing about you." He looked up, leaning slightly to get a better look at his friend's sack laying on the ground at their feet. "Fulliautomatix, where are you going?" His gaze was full of genuine curiosity, and maybe a hint of concern.

"I'm going to Lutetia," Fulliautomatix said proudly, waving a hand in the direction he thought the great city might be located. "I'm going to become the besth blachthmith in all of Gaul!" Then his father would be proud of him. Then he could fight whenever he wanted to, and no one could tell him otherwise. "And you can't thstop me!"

Unhygienix smiled nervously with a shrug. He seemed to find this all quite appealing. After all, his father had given him quite a chewing out, and he was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't be better off someplace else as well. He stepped closer, eyes pleading. "Can I come?"

"No!" the blacksmith's son snapped, causing his friend to flinch back. "I'm thupossed to stay _away_ from you!" He gave Unhygienix a rough push in the direction they had come. "Go back home!" He was a little rougher than he had intended, and the fishmonger's son stumbled, landing on his rear in the dirt. Fulliautomatix turned, grabbed his bundle and started walking away. He hadn't gone twelve paces before he could hear the patter of someone following. Wheeling about, he fixed Unhygienix with an angry look. "I thaid-"

"I don't know the way home..." his friend muttered, cutting off his sharp retort. Unhygienix's eyes were moist, and he refused to look at Fulliautomatix directly, either out of shame or just because he was so upset. The sight caught Fulliautomatix off guard.

"Oh." Now he felt like a bully. But he was still mad at Unhygienix for fighting with him earlier. None of this would have happened if it weren't for him. "Well," Fulliautomatix snapped sharply, "Why didn't you bring a map, sthupid?!"

"I-I don't need one!"

"Oh yeah, I can thee that!"

Unhygienix frowned, taking up a defensive stance. "You take that back, Fulliautomatix!"

"I will not!"

"Will too!"

"Will n-"

 _KABOOM!_

Both boys squeaked in terror as thunder cracked above their heads, causing them to run in circles before they both dove into a small, burrow-like structure* beneath the roots of a large tree. They slid down inside, breathing heavily and shaking, the smell of dirt very strong in the close quarters.

Fulliautomatix took several deep breaths, trying to regain his composer. The noise had startled him greatly, and it took a long moment for him to convince himself he was still alive. Suddenly he realized that Unhygienix had a tight grip around his middle, chubby arms locked around the young blacksmith son's stomach. With a grunt of annoyance, Fulliautomatix pushed him away, though not as roughly as before. "Get away from me! It'th just thunder!"

Unhygienix slid back a bit, his back resting against the dirt side of the burrow. "I-I'm sorry, Fulliautomatix." The boy was almost in tears again, and it was beginning to get on Fulliautomatix's nerves. He was scrubbing away at his eyes, dirty fists leaving splotches of dirt on his chubby, little face.

"For what?" Fulliautomatix grumped, still angry. "Getting us lothed?"

"No!" Unhygienix sobbed, looking truly ashamed, his anger disappearing immediately. "For...For making your dad mad at you!"

Fulliautomatix snapped his attention to his friend, his anger all at once leaving him too. He seemed shocked by Unhygienix's apology, having not expected it in the least. Here he had been, blaming Unhygienix for his troubles, but now that he had heard his friend actually _taking_ the blame, it didn't seem or feel right. Swallowing his pride, and finding it hard to do, Fulliautomatix gave a soft sigh. "It wathn't your fault...It wath mine." A small smile lit his face up for a moment. "We do fight a lot, don't we?"

Unhygienix gave a bitter chuckle. "Yeah...Why do we do that?...Do you hate me?"

"No!" That was something Fulliautomatix was very sure of. "I don't hate you, you're my friend!" The thought of actually hating Unhygienix was ridiculous. They were practically like brothers. Neither one of them had any siblings, and other than each other, and the other children, there was no one they could truly treat like brothers. They acted like brothers, fighting when they didn't agree. It was just how their friendship worked.

"And you're my friend!" Unhygienix whimpered sadly, wiping a grimy arm under his nose.

A long pause stretched between them, and another flash of lightening lit up the dark forest, followed by yet an even louder clash of thunder. The boys huddled closer, Fulliautomatix no longer pushing his friend away. They sat quiet a moment, as the rain began to pour down around them.

"I don't want to never play with you again..." Unhygienix intoned softly, after some time. "We might fight a lot...but that's just what we do...right?"

Fulliautomatix nodded silently. His eyes were welling up with tears now. He was scared, the full extent of what he had been planning to do crashing down on him. He had been prepared to leave his home. His friends. His family. And because of his foolishness, now he and Unhygienix were lost, in a storm, in a part of the forest they didn't know.

"When we get home," he sniffed, "I'm going to make sure we never fight again."

"Me too."

* * *

"I can't find my son!"

Semiautomatix ran from hut to hut, practically banging doors in as he asked each villager whether they had seem Fulliautomatix. With each negative answer he was given, his heart beat faster and harder in his chest. The rain was pouring down now. And thunder and lightening filled the air with an electric feel. As though the gods themselves were angry with the small village below. The blacksmith began to panic, other Gauls joining him in the search. Running through puddles soaked his clothes, and the chill in the air gave him goose bumps all up and down his bare arms. Or maybe it was just his fear.

"Semiautomatix!"

The blacksmith turned, seeing a frightened looking Unhealthix running toward him.

"Semiautomatix, have you seem Unhygienix?! I can't find him anywhere!"

Semiautomatix's face grew in concern. "I can't find Fulliautomatix either..." His worried eyes fixed on the open gate, knowing that he had been pretty hard on his boy. If he had been him, he might have left the village in his anger. That was something Semiautomatix could easily see his son doing. "They must be outside the village!" The two men started for the forest, but were stopped in their tracks by a stern shout.

"Wait!"

Getafix, looking quite soaked and chilled, followed them, along with several other men from the village. They had all left the warm comfort of their homes to help.

"We'll come with you," the druid declared, already leading the way. "They can't be far." He was nearly as desperate to find the boys as the two fathers. He had come to know Fulliautomatix and Unhygienix very well, being their teacher, and he was very concerned for their safety. Getafix hated storms, due to something that had happened to him in the past year*, and, in a way, he was still getting over it. But the two children were worth fighting his fears. They needed to be found. His predictions of the weather were accurate, and were not to be trifled with. It was only going to get worse.

With a nod, they all headed out into the forest, as the rain began to fall harder.

* * *

"I-I'm scared!" Unhygienix stuck to Fulliautomatix like sap, clinging to his apron as though it were the only thing saving him from death. The burrow had begun to get soggy, and the mud was getting higher, having completely covered their legs. Fear of leaving had been the only thing keeping them inside it, but now they began to wonder if that was such a good idea. Worms wiggled near Unhygienix's toes, and he yelped, pulling his limbs closer to his body. "Please, I-I think we should find somewhere else to hide!"

Fulliautomatix was easy to convince. He was finding that he didn't like being cooped up in the small, uncomfortable space. The smell of mud upset his stomach, and he was beginning to ache from shivering from cold. His teeth chattered as he answered. "B-But where w-will we g-go?"

"Anywhere!" his friend yelped, again shifting as something slithered over his bare foot. Without another thought, Unhygienix started to shift, wanting all at once, very badly, to get out. But he couldn't. There wasn't enough room to get out, and Fulliautomatix was blocking the entrance, having been the second of them to enter the burrow. "Fulliautomatix! Come on! I want out!"

"Alright, alright! Pushy!" the blacksmith's son growled, secretly relieved that they were leaving the cramped space. Struggling against the slippery mud, he slowly pulled himself up and out of the burrow, spitting grit that had gotten in his mouth. The rain was cold once he was out in the open and it landed in great, big drops on his bare shoulders. He took a deep, cleansing breath, before scooting around on his knees to face the burrow entrance. "Give me your hand, Unhygienix!" He couldn't see into the dark hole, but a moment later he felt slippery fingers grip onto his own. He grinned, pulling with both hands, trying to lift Unhygienix from the small pit. Things went smoothly, and Fulliautomatix could just make out his friend's dirty face, when it all suddenly went very wrong. There was a sloshing sound, followed by a small rumble and a cry from Unhygienix.

"Ah!" Unhygienix's face contorted in sharp discomfort, as he nearly let go of Fulliautomatix's hands. He struggled a moment, trying to kick his feet and climb higher. When that proved fruitless, his eyes widened, looking up into Fulliautomatix's face with panic. "Fulliautomatix! I'm stuck!"

"Thtuck?! What do you mean thtuck!" Fulliautomatix cried, his own panic growing by the moment. How could he be stuck? The burrow was plenty big enough. A little muddy, and filled with water, but plenty big enough, even for Unhygienix, who was a little pudgier than himself. Unhygienix's next words made the blacksmith's son feel sick.

"Half the burrow collapsed! It's on my legs! I can't move!"

That in itself wouldn't have been so bad, except that the burrow was continuing to fill with rainwater and mud. Unhygienix's head wasn't up far enough to be safe from drowning.

"Can't you thcoot up any further?" Fulliautomatix asked worriedly.

"No!"

 _Bad. Bad bad bad!_ was all the thinner boy could think. He tried yanking on his friend's arms, to pull him up, but Unhygienix cried out in pain, the weight on his legs probably having hurt something of him. The fishmonger's son was close to tears, and Fulliautomatix was no better. "I-I'll get you out," he promised. "I'll go get help!" He took his hammer, ripping the sack off of it, and positioned it across the burrow opening, carefully slipping Unhygienix's fingers onto it. "That will hold you up until I get back!"

"But what if you can't find your way back here once you leave?!" Unhygienix wailed, eyes filled with fear. He didn't want to be left alone. He was terrified, wet, cold, worms kept tickling his toes, and a burning, sharp ache was growing in his right ankle and leg.

Fulliautomatix looked around him, trying to think of a way to mark a trail. He looked to the sack in his hand, taking in its frayed appearance. His eyes lit up in an idea. Pulling the string on one corner of the sack, the fabric began to unravel. It was drastic, but it would work. He dumped its contents into the mud without another thought. Tying an end of the string to the handle of his mallet, close to Unhygienix's fingers, Fulliautomatix tested it by moving back a few steps. The sack continued to unravel, leaving a trail of string. "It workth," he breathed. "I've got it, Unhygienixth!" he called. "I'll be right back!" With that, he took off, hoping he was heading in the right direction for the village, easing a trail of string behind him. "Sthay right there!"

* * *

The wind was picking up even more, practically bending the trees over to the sopping wet ground, whipping their branches back and forth violently, creaking under the strain. It was so loud that it was hard to hear anything other than the whistling of wind through the branches. The only other sound that was audible, however, was the cries and shouts of the Gaulish men.

"UNHYGIENIX!"

"FULLIAUTOMATIX!"

"Come on lads! Where are you?!"

"SON!"

They had been wading through muck and mire, rain trickling cold down their backs, and still there had been no sight of either child. Worried faces were becoming panicked, and panicked faces were becoming desperate. Semiautomatix and Unhealthix plowed ever forward, eyes shielded against the drops of rain being carried by the storm. Getafix, the Chief, and every other available Gaulish man was out with them. They had searched the shore by the sea, the meadow, and were now in the process of combing every inch of the forest line, heading ever deeper into the woods. The weather was frightening, and water was beginning to gather deeply within the ruts and gullies that existed on the forest floor.

"Still no sign of them," Astronomix reported sadly, exchanging glances with Obeliscoidix, who also had come up empty in the search. "But let's keep trying."

Things were feeling pretty grim, when all at once a voice answered their cries from the darkness.

"Help! Help! We're over thith way!"

"That's Fulliautomatix!" Getafix realized, sending a look to the boy's father. There was no mistaking that lisp.

Semiautomatix's eyes widened as he leaped forward, racing into the foliage. "He's in this direction!" He sped through the trees, jumping over the underbrush and ducking under low-hanging branches, calling out, almost afraid to hope. "Fulliautomatix?!"

"Dad?!"

"Son!"

"DAD!"

In a small clearing, the two almost collided, Semiautomatix dropping to his knees in the mud as Fulliautomatix flung his small arms around his father's neck. The little boy was crying, thoroughly terrified and guilty. "I'm thorry! Dad, I'm tho thorry!" was all the blacksmith could make out from the boy's wet rambling. He rubbed Fulliautomatix's back, shushing gently as the other Gauls finally caught up.

Unhealthix stood, head turning in all directions. "Where's Unhygienix?!"

Fulliautomatix forced himself to let go of his father, stepping away, pointing the way he had come. "Unhygienixth ith thtuck!" he lisped terribly, struggling to be understood in his haste. "We were hiding under a tree, but the dirt came down on hith legth!"

Unhealthix turned very pale. "Oh by Toutatis..."

"Where, Fulliautomatix?!" Getafix encouraged urgently, kneeling beside the trembling child. "Can you show us where?!"

The boy nodded, holding up the last bit of remaining string in his small fist. With the men hot on his heels, Fulliautomatix raced back into the forest.

* * *

Unhygienix had never been so frightened in his life. He was shivering violently now from the cold, and his teeth chattered as he tried to retain his grip on Fulliautomatix's hammer. His fingers were very slippery, coated with mud, which made it hard, but his desperation gave him strength, and he kept shifting his hands for a firmer hold.

It felt like Fulliautomatix had been gone for hours, when, in fact, it had really only been a few minutes. But even then, the water and mud had risen in the burrow, having now covered Unhygienix's legs and lower back completely. The weight of it all was uncomfortable, pushing down on his injured leg, causing it to feel slightly numb with pain. Every time the boy tried out of panic to pull himself out, even by a few inches, he would cry out, the hurting to much to handle without stopping. Rainwater kept splashing in his eyes, making his vision blurry.

"Help! Somebody, please!" he tried weakly, only half expecting an answer.

"Unhygienixth!"

The boy stiffened, alert. "Fulliautomatix?" He could barely believe it. "FULLIAUTOMATIX!"

"We're coming! I got help!"

A moment later, the blacksmith's son was kneeling in front of him again, eyes wide and breathing heavily. Fulliautomatix reached in, taking Unhygienix's wrists, trying to help him keep his grip. "I found them!'' he gasped. "They're coming, justht hang on!''

They arrived right after that. They were all there, all the men. Getafix, the Chief, Astronomix and Obeliscoidix, and even old Geriatrix. They crowded around, carefully taking over for Fulliautomatix and making the boy step aside as the Gauls went to work. Obeliscoidix was the strongest among them, digging into the burrow, between the roots, using his large hands to shovel away all the excess dirt, mud, and loam that was trapping the fishmonger's little boy. Unhygienix was struggling to keep calm, the water having now risen to his back and shoulders, but his father, who was now crouched in front of him, holding his hands, gave him hope.

"There's a heavy root fallen on his leg!" Obeliscoidix reported, pulling at the tubular object with all his might. It was heavy, weighed down by the collapsing mud. Suddenly, it let go, and the burly man rolled back, torn root in his hand. "Now! Now! Pull him out now!"

With a silent prayer, Unhealthix gave a firm but gentle pull. Unhygienix, with a gasp of pain, popped right out of the mud, right into his father's arms. The two breathed for a moment, shocked after all that had happened, before giving yelps of joy and hugging each other enthusiastically.

Fulliautomatix smiled, feeling dizzy with relief. He looked up at his father, and saw that he was smiling too. That's when he knew everything was going to be alright.

* * *

The two boys sat side by side in front of the fireplace in Semiautomatix's hut. Sipping warm boar broth, the two were slowly beginning to feel less chilled. Getafix had just left, after determining that Unhygienix's leg was only badly sprained, rather than broken, like they had feared. He had wrapped it tightly, giving the boy something for the pain before heading back to Geriatrix's cottage, where he was staying. Semiautomatix and Unhealthix were in the kitchen, preparing more food for supper, with help from Unhygienix's mom. She had been so grateful to Fulliautomatix, calling him her 'little hero', that she had declared that she would make a special dessert, just for him and her son. Fulliautomatix had blushed, feeling very proud of his bravery. Though still feeling guilty that it had all been his fault to begin with. But everything had turned out fine, and that was all that mattered.

Sitting alone by the fire, the two sat watching the flames dancing along the wooden logs in silence. They had still been scolded, but only a little, for leaving the village in a storm. For leaving the village period. But it had been agreed between both fathers that their sons would be free to play anytime they wanted, and that they would try and overlook any small disagreements in the future. The boys could remain friends. This had pleased them very much, and the boys had hugged in excitement before quickly pulling apart in embarrassment. Grown men didn't hug, was their excuse.

Fulliautomatix took another sip of broth, feeling it warm all the way down his throat to his stomach. "Hmm," he hummed happily, "Your mom makes good boar soup!"

Unhygienix smiled, a little uneasily. He knew Fulliautomatix didn't have a mother anymore, and he wanted to be careful not to make him feel bad. "It's in the family, she says," he answered, slurping down some himself, before he paused and quieted, looking down into his bowl reflectively. The events of the day had left him very tired and sore. But he was grateful. Very grateful. "Thank you...by the way. For saving me."

Fulliautomatix suddenly became very shy. "Aw...it wath nothing...I didn't really do anything...It wath the adulths that got you out of that hole."

"I know," Unhygienix pressed, "But you went and found them. So, thank you."

"Well...your welcome." It felt awkward leaving it at that. He smiled, looking at his companion. "I'm glad we're friendths again."

"Me too." Unhygienix took another spoonful of soup. "Maybe you can come over to my hut tomorrow. We can play inside, since Getafix says I have to take it easy on my leg for a few weeks. How does that sound to you?"

Fulliautomatix's smile turned mischievous. "Sure, ath long ath your dad doethn't make any of hith thtinky fish for lunch!"

Unhygienix gave his friend a glare, lowering his bowl to his lap. "Fulliautomatix, you take that back!"

"I will not!"

"You will!"

"I won't!"

"I say you will!"

"Well, I thay I won't!"

There was the sound of a chair falling over, followed by some grunts and angry shouts. But Semiautomatic and Unhealthix only rolled their eyes as they stood in the kitchen, staying where they were. They would not interfere this time. They continued helping to make diner, slowly turning a boar over the hearth. They had learned their lesson. Their sons were friends, there was no doubt of that. And a part of their friendship included fighting it out once in a while. It was a bother. It was rough. And, at times, it was annoying.

But, apparently, sometimes a big part of being friends, is learning to work out the differences.

* * *

 *** This little burrow-like structure is the same one from my story "Safe and Sound", where, years later, Cacofonix and Panacea hid to escape Spacious and his men. :)**

 ***Mastix attacked the Carnutes with a storm the night Getafix fled. ("An Inner Light")**


End file.
